Beyond the Legend
by joshuafaramir
Summary: For every legend and for every myth, there's a kernel of truth. This is the story of the man who conquered the greatest Dark Lord of recent history and in doing so, started the embers of the apocalypse. AU. No pairing as of now. Reviews please!
1. Shape and Shadow

PROLOGUE

_**Shapes and Shadows**_

It was a cold night, and the wind was blowing strong beneath the moonless sky. The trees were swaying back and forth, dancing in tune with the silent music and the howling of the wind. Beyond the trees was a clearing dimly lit by a campfire that did not give off any smoke and smell that usually comes with the burning of wood. A crack of sparks jumped and flitted around the fire casting a distorted shadow of the man sitting on a log of wood.

The man had a jet-black hair, black as shadow. His cloak was a shade of what was red, tattered, torn, and flayed around the edges. He had the look of a person used to waiting- a patience so deep that came from enduring many things. It was in his eyes though, that belied his calm, outward expression. Deep green eyes like the ocean depth warily scanned his surroundings, looking for signs of intrusion only a master of magic can understand.

Finding nothing, the man's posture relaxed and a bone-weary expression replaced his mask of indifference. He promptly stood up and raised his wand above his head and with a quick downward slash, the flame in front of him burst forming a shape. With another flick of his wand, he dispelled the fire and only the barest hint of a pop can heard as he apparated, leaving the cold and hard earth.

Dry leaves rustled and beyond the trees. The soft, silent whispering began anew. Moonlight filled the sky and stars began to shine. Only the spot where the man had formed the shape remained dark. It was blacker than a starless sky. Darker than a moonless night. It spoke of emptiness and death. And it was as if a piece of the world had collapsed, forever destroyed.


	2. The Boy Who Lived

CHAPTER ONE

_**The Boy Who Lived**_

The house was already burning bright when Albus Dumbledore apparated at Godrics Hollow. Bits and pieces of burnt wood lie scattered everywhere. Deep gouges of earth surrounding the house were visible, serving as signs of complex spells rebounding and wards being broken. Dumbledore had put a veritable layer of wards around the house in addition to the Fidelus Charm he cast when the Potters went into hiding. Ancient warding that could almost rival Hogwarts protection. Indeed, he thought, only Tom Riddle could have had a chance of breaking them, as he walked past by the broken grandfather clock beside the doorway.

Just before the staircase, he saw James Potters' body. His face forever frozen in a mask of fear and anguish as realized that he failed to protect his family. Dumbledore could only imagine the horror and hopelessness James had to experience when Tom broke the wards. He knew Tom well enough to know that he would have taunted James into desperation, toyed with him until he drove James to despair before killing him.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment as he mourned the loss of a dear friend and student- his face, lined with grief and sadness. He walked towards the body and performed a simple healing spell. Golden light surrounded James' body and as it faded, the wounds began closing together. With another spell, he repaired the torn and bloodsoaked robe James wore and then bent forward and closed his eyes. He muttered a silent prayer and said "I'm sorry my dear friend, I should have been there to protect you. You should not have paid the heaviest price for my mistakes."

As he began making his way up the staircase, he noticed the various pictures of the Potter family posted on the wall. Pictures of James and Lily holding their baby and waving to the camera. Pictures of Harry riding his toy broom and flying around the house. Pictures of the laughing and smiling faces. Of warmth and joy. And of peace- before fate struck and left a wake of destruction on her path.  
The stone in his heart felt heavier for every step he took and picture he saw. A sudden infux of magic tore his gaze out of the pictures and onto the room by the corner. With a burst of alacrity, Dumbledore rushed towards the open door, wand ready in hand. The first thing he noticed was the pulsating magic that saturated the room. A mixture of blood magic and death and a remnant of a very powerful ritual.

Smoke filled the room, obscuring his vision of what lay beyond. With another spell, he summoned a gust of wind that blew the smoke and ashes. Lily Potter was in the middle of the room, lying on her back with her hands spread eagle. An obvious attempt at blocking Tom's advance to murder their child.  
Unlike James, her face held a resolute expression. The kind of determination only a mother faced with utter desperation can make. Although her eyes remained blank, a barest hint of triumph was etched in her face. It was as if she knew what would happen if Tom proceeds to kill her Harry after he was done with her. Dumbledore could only hope that whatever confidence Lily had before her death proved to be successful.  
A sudden crack revealed the coming of another visitor. Severus Snape rushed into the doorway panting and asked. "Is she...?" His eyes locking into Lily, he ran, dropped to his knees, and hugged her dead body. His grief more evident as sobs wracked his body and his cries of "No no, I'm sorry, Lily" pervaded the silence.

"Severus..." Dumbledore began, his hand on his shoulders but the man shrugged it off. "No, it's my fault, if I had not told the Dark Lord of the prophesy, Lily would have..." he choked but continued "Lily would be still alive. I'd rather see her happy with _that man_ than dead." he finished.  
Dumbledore left the man to his grief and walked around the room. His eyes looking around, _searching_ for any clues of what had happened to Voldemort and Harry. The thick remnant of the strong magic prevented him from casting the spells he needed to know, or at least, give him an idea of what befell this place. He strongly wished he could change the past. Come here _minutes_ sooner. Or had Severus told him earlier... But no, he cleared his head of these thoughts and instead, focused on his Occulumency shields-strengthening the barrier between his dispassionate calm and emotions. He need to focus on what happened here.

A soft rustling of cloth, and a small whimper was enough to him out of his reverie and both him and Snape spun towards the sound, wands twirling in their hands. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Snape's face fill with equal amount of hope and hatred and heard his mutter "It can't be... How?" Dumbledore was already walking towards the source of the sound with barely concealed excitement, his stride fast and long. His thoughts raced back to the prophecy _"__and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."  
_

The sound was coming from under a basket buried beneath the debris of clothes that was clearly blown above it by a strong wind._ "My own spell" _Dumbledore thought. Carefully, to not frighten the terrified child, Dumbledore slowly pulled the basket away revealing the child with a startling green eyes. In his mind, Dumbledore recalls the echo of a voice, the last line of the prophecy "_the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies__"_. And for the first time he set foot in this place, he allowed a small bloom of hope.

He traced his fingers on the cheek of the baby rewarding him with small giggles of laughter. He further traced his finger to the baby's nose and up towards the small scar, slightly to the right of his forehead. He didn't even notice McGonagall's arrival and barely heard her ask _"Is that where -?" _she said. _"Yes. He'll have that scar forever." _he replied. _"Finally"_ he thought, at the cost of a great sacrifice, they finally have a fighting chance to defeat Voldemort. Everything was in the hands of the baby in front of him. At the _Boy Who Lived._


End file.
